


Like Father

by Anonymous



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Awkward Flirting, Background Relationships, Jealousy, Kraglin is not Peter's father figure, M/M, Misunderstandings, No underage, Secret Relationship, Teen Angst, Teen Crush, Teenage Peter Quill, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-12-26 09:36:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18280505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Peter and Kraglin’s relationship has always been complicated. Perhaps it was because they were that little bit too far apart in age. Or maybe it was because neither of them liked sharing. But Peter was optimistic that now they were older, things were going to change for the better. In fact, he was counting on it.In which a teenage Peter has a giant crush on Kraglin and decides to make a move. If only other people wouldn’t keep getting in the way.





	1. The Future

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically just a slashy re-imagining of Peter's younger days after I got thinking about his relationship with Kraglin and Yondu. Potential spoiler here: Just to make it clear, there is no underage happening in this fic. Peter is seventeen, Kraglin is twenty-five, but there won't be anything happening there.

Peter’s earliest memories of Kraglin were of a goofy-looking boy who was rather young for his years and who had used to trip over himself – literally – in his haste to run errands. Now that Peter looked back, this enthusiasm had probably been more about Kraglin’s survival instinct than of some overwhelming desire to kiss everyone’s boots. The Ravagers could be merciless towards some of their younger crewmembers, and if he remembered correctly, Kraglin would only have been with them around a year at most. Still, Peter had found him a little pathetic, even being as small and vulnerable as he’d been himself. Kraglin had just come across as rather... desperate to please.

 

The feeling was relatively mutual, too. For all that Yondu ‘joked’ about the crew wanting to eat him, Peter knew very well that his arrival had been somewhat of a spanner in the works for many of them. It had evidently not been Yondu’s initial plan to basically adopt him, but he had, and that had caused difficulties very quickly. Two of Yondu’s finest had betrayed him, one after the other, the one that survived citing Yondu’s newfound ‘softness’ for taking Peter in as the major reason, before his exile. He hadn’t believed Yondu capable of prioritising the good of the Ravagers alongside a child’s.

 

Now, Peter didn’t think that _Kraglin_ had ever harboured such extreme feelings against him – in fact, they’d indulged in many friendly conversations over the years, listened to Peter’s music together, and the guy had once or twice even offered to show Peter the ropes in some area or other himself. But there had always been that tinge of resentment between them. They were just that little bit too close in age, perhaps, for Kraglin to feel the same level of care for him that Yondu did. And as it was for so many of the Ravagers, Yondu would have been the only father-figure Kraglin had, but Peter’s initial dependence had meant that any time their captain had going spare was now firmly devoted to him instead. And Peter knew that Yondu _was_ soft on him; he _was_ his father, blood be damned. The man had raised him from childhood, and instilled so many values and lessons in him that he lived by today. And he could admit that he’d been jealous sometimes, whenever Yondu had chosen to spend an evening with ‘the men’ and sent him off to bed early.

 

And so, Peter would tentatively say that while he and Kraglin held a shared respect and fondness for one another – they had never _quite_ been friends.

 

But in the last couple of years, something mysterious had taken place – whether in reality or just Peter’s mind he wasn’t sure – and he found himself more and more distracted by the lanky Xandarian. It was nine years since the Ravagers had abducted him, and Peter was now rapidly on his way to being accepted as one of ‘the men’. He may have only been seventeen, but he was also rather burly, and already a skilled marksman and pilot. He was mature for his age; ready for life, and more than experienced in certain... _other_ areas of it. Which was why one evening Peter found himself happily confident as he approached Kraglin with one of his own culinary creations from Earth – a sandwich – that he already knew the guy liked. 

 

Kraglin was in the loading bay, frowning down at a small screen as he logged their new inventory. He had also noticeably changed in the last few years. He was still thin as ever, with those huge blue eyes and sweet face that would probably make it impossible for him to ever look remotely threatening. Kraglin did, however, now possess that edge of maturity about him; the more defined cheekbones, brow, and jaw line, the proper facial hair that Peter himself was just on the verge of developing, and the broader shoulders. He’d grown nice and tall, too, so that he looked quite elegant in his leathers – at least until he fell over. Peter had noticed his developing ability to switch his klutziness on and off; the guy could go from moody and composed to nervous and stammering in a split second, and damn it to hell if it didn’t drive Peter crazy.

 

‘Hey, Krags,’ called Peter, strolling into the deserted space. ‘Got you dinner.’

 

Kraglin glanced up, looking confused. ‘Huh?’ was all he said, looking up and down between the sandwich and Peter’s face a few times.

 

‘I brought you dinner.’ Peter waved the plate invitingly. ‘Thought you’d be hungry.’

 

Kraglin pursed his lips distrustfully and looked back down at his notes. Being one of the younger, skinnier Ravagers, he was occasionally still subject to the odd prank by other crewmembers.

 

Peter was undeterred and simply walked closer to him, picking the sandwich up and tearing off a piece to stick into his own mouth. ‘I han’t done anyfing to it,’ he said through a mouthful. ‘See?’ He waved the plate again.

 

‘I – ’

 

‘Scram, boy,’ came Yondu’s brash voice, seemingly out of nowhere. He barged in, practically elbowing Peter away from Kraglin and gesturing towards the far exit on the other side of the bay. ‘Me and Kraglin have business to attend to.’

 

‘Hey!’ Peter snapped as Yondu’s shove nearly sent him tripping over his own feet.

 

Yondu just gave him an apathetic look, and then he spotted the snack Peter was holding. His arm shot out, grabbing the snack up in one calloused blue hand, and then bringing it to his own mouth to take a big, messy bite.

 

Peter scowled. ‘That was – ’

 

‘Oh, you still here?’ asked Yondu, chewing loudly.

 

Kraglin just peered at the two of them over his screen, maybe anticipating a fight.

 

‘Go on, get!’ Yondu barked, tiny bits of bread flying out of his mouth as he made a shooing motion at Peter. ‘Make yourself useful some place.’

 

Peter stormed out; tossing the plate down the corridor like a frisbee, at the end of which, it hit a water pipe with a loud clang.

 

  

Although it would be fair to say that Yondu had – sometimes – indulged Peter, that didn’t mean he’d been an easy parent to grow up with. He couldn’t have afforded to be; Peter usually knew to be grateful he’d been so well prepared for the volatile galaxy they lived in, but at times like this he forgot why he should thank Yondu for anything. Often, he yearned for the days when Yondu, having spent the last hour threatening to feed him to the crew, would sit him on his knee and teach him how to pilot the ship, or when he’d even finally relax and start telling him stories. On days like this, however, he wished Yondu would just _go away_ for five minutes – preferably a hundred and twenty.

 

Kraglin, who was now far from being the waif-like sixteen-year-old he'd been when they'd first met, was in almost constant demand. As nervous and ungainly as he could be, wonder of wonders, he had proven himself many times over. He was a decent pilot; and had become a good fighter and one of the best pickpockets. He was as loyal a Ravager as it was possible to be; taking Yondu’s authority far more seriously than Peter ever had, and he obviously cared for their leader deeply. He was always the first to offer assistance if Yondu was feeling ill or was wounded, always willing to deliver news to him whether good or bad, with his clever ability to soften a potential upset. It set him apart, somewhat, from many of the prouder, harsher Ravagers who sought Yondu’s favour. Peter wasn’t sure that the guy would make captain material any time soon, but that didn’t really appear to be his aim, anyway. For the time being, he seemed content doing as Yondu asked, from thievery to laundry. As a result, it exposed him to yet more ridicule from others, but it was clear that Yondu now trusted him absolutely, and Peter suspected that he’d only continue to climb the ranks.

 

But, of course, Peter was hoping that both he and Kraglin would be leaving the _Eclector_ togetherbefore too long. He’d been surprised to find himself so keen to settle down this early, but what the hell. It was actually kind of hot, picturing the two of them together on their own ship; taking care of each other and screwing around whenever they felt like it. Naturally, this little fantasy relied on Yondu actually _offering_ him his own ship, and being willing to release Kraglin. There was also the need for Kraglin to return Peter’s affections, but he wasn’t too worried about that. He’d already sweet-talked his way into the pants of a few girls and boys, and he was pretty confident that Kraglin preferred the latter. It was the teenage thing that would probably give the guy some pause if any, but Peter was more than old enough to make his own decisions. 

 

Nevertheless, Peter couldn’t actually get away from the fact that, at the moment, he was underage. But the way he saw it; seventeen was nearly eighteen, and eighteen was adult in many different areas of the universe, including his own planet. The moment they kissed for the first time, Kraglin would _know_ Peter was mature enough. After a couple of days still feeling rather stung by Yondu’s interruption, Peter made the decision to try and prove himself to Kraglin on that front first. He would show him that he was thinking about the future; interested in a long-term commitment. They would have a proper conversation about things. Should Kraglin be put off by the age thing, he would do everything he could to convince him not to be, or if it came to it he'd tell him to watch this space, because Peter Quill was going to be somebody. He was going to make a name for himself; become Star-Lord and travel the galaxy a free man.

 

A few weeks later, when the _Eclector_ was making its way towards the next big space port, Peter got his chance. To his delight, he and Kraglin were paired for night watch on the bridge, alone together. Kraglin brought them both hot drinks, and they sat at the console, listening to the music made from a copy of Peter’s mixed tape.

 

‘What do you want for your future?’ Peter asked him casually as ‘Fooled Around and Fell in Love’ came on.

 

‘Oh – ’ said Kraglin rather bashfully. ‘Well, I’ll still be here, ‘course.’

 

Peter watched him. ‘Will you? You don’t think you might want to move on?’

 

Kraglin looked slightly affronted then. ‘This is my home.’

 

‘Well, yeah it is – but what if your circumstances changed? What if you got offered a better deal elsewhere?’

 

‘I – don’t know. I don’t think so.’

 

‘What if you meet someone?’

 

Kraglin blushed. ‘I don’t think – ’

 

‘Aw, come on,’ Peter purred, smiling at him cheekily. ‘It happens, right? Sometimes people go out and don’t come back – but for good reasons. They find that special someone.’

 

Kraglin shook his head, still looking troubled by the very idea. ‘The _Eclector’s_ my home. Yondu’s my captain – I couldn’t just leave.’

 

‘He doesn’t _own_ you, man.’

 

‘No.’

 

‘He wouldn’t want to lose you, but I bet you he wouldn’t wanna hold you back, either.’

 

Kraglin shot him an incredulous look, as if to say, ‘Have you _met_ him?’

 

Peter waved a hand in acknowledgement. ‘I mean – he cares about you. I know he likes to pretend he has no feelings, but you and me know that’s bullshit, don’t we? We started here young – we know he’s decent underneath it all.’

 

‘Has he said something to you?’ said Kraglin suddenly, looking queasy.

 

‘What?’

 

‘The captain – has he been talking about me?’

 

Peter’s eyes widened slightly in understanding. Yondu discussing names behind backs could sometimes mean those particular backs were to be quickly dropped at their next stop. ‘Oh, no – no, he hasn’t. I’m talking about _you_ , Kraglin.’

 

Kraglin visibly relaxed with a deep, exhaled breath.

 

‘I’m talking about _your_ future.’

 

‘Quill – ’ Kraglin was shaking his head now. ‘I ain’t got a clue what you’re yapping about.’

 

‘You’re a young guy, yes? You have your life ahead of you – ’

 

‘Ravagers don’t always.’

 

‘Just – forget the Ravagers a sec.’

 

‘Forget _what_ now, Quill?’ sneered a voice behind them.

 

Peter and Kraglin looked around to see Retch’s smug face grinning at them from the doorway.

 

‘...Crap.’

 

 

As Peter worked his way through the mountain of chores he’d been given when word of his ‘treasonous’ remark reached Yondu’s ears, he reflected that perhaps a more direct approach with Kraglin might be for the best after all. He decided to return to wooing him instead. It seemed that the guy was maybe a touch more insecure than he’d realised; and so Peter would have to prove his worth through his deeds. On top of his already huge list, he did a load of laundry for him; washing, drying and even pressing a couple of pieces for him especially. He also tried to sneak him some extra of the Xandarian cake he’d served the crew when he was put on canteen duty. Both times he was thwarted, however. When he’d dropped off Kraglin’s clothes to his quarters, and later the cake, the Xandarian was nowhere to be seen, both times. As Peter watched Kraglin’s hefty roommate consume the treat from where he was lying under the guy’s bulk after a valiant struggle, he mused that Kraglin didn’t seem to ever sleep these days. Yondu was obviously working him way too hard.

 

 


	2. The Offer

For another long fornight, Peter was denied any further opportunities to talk to Kraglin. Even after his punishment finally came to an end he was busy enough. Four separate raids were organised by Yondu across the space of just two days. All Peter knew was that two large ships had recently engaged in combat, blown each other up, and their remains now lay scattered across several different planets within the small, largely uninhabited solar system the _Elector_ was situated in. One of the vessels had been carrying a hoard presumably massive enough for them to be spending so much time and energy looking for it, even though there was a good chance most of it could have been destroyed. But molten metal was still metal, and what there might have been lacking in treasure; there was an abundance of in other materials ready to be salvaged. One of the ships had managed to hit a little green planet’s atmosphere just so, and its prow and a good portion of the hull lay in reasonable condition across the marshy landscape.

 

They were lucky, really, to have had the crash site to themselves for so long. During the fifth raid on the third day, they were forced to abort the operation when news of another ship lurking around was reported.

 

The little group of them, which included Kraglin and Peter, promptly made their way back through waterlogged soil to the _Seeker_ , a small cruiser, and took off to return to the _Eclector_. As they travelled, Peter kept an eye up front, while Kraglin rather grimly set about logging what little they’d managed to take. Yondu was at the back, talking in hushed tones with Latz, a large, surly Hraxian, and Stuvva, the Arcturan first mate over the intercom.

 

Peter wasn’t interested. He’d been shaken awake far too early that morning, and was now out of his bleary-eyed daze and rapidly becoming bored stupid. Sometimes he would feel a small twinge of guilt for not being able to take Ravager life too seriously, or to really consider a future with them, but it wasn’t as though he hadn’t tried. And besides, he hadn’t asked for any of this. The Ravagers had snatched him, and whether or not Yondu was ‘protecting him from getting eaten’ (still), Peter knew his rights.

 

As usual, Peter had been banned from bringing his Walkman along – Yondu claimed it was unprofessional and risked him missing communications – but he’d also put a slightly shabby recording of his mixed tape onto his personal screen, and he put it on at a low volume as they left the planet’s atmosphere for, thankfully, the last time.

 

‘Chances are it ain’t there,’ he heard Latz saying. ‘Three days and no sign of anything shiny.’

 

As the last few beats and warbles of ‘O-o-h Child’ tailed off, Peter was pleasantly surprised when Kraglin sat down in the seat beside his.

 

‘Play that “Cherry” one,’ said Kraglin, nodding at the console.

 

Peter grinned and skipped back to the requested track. Kraglin leaned back contentedly as the song started up. He looked tired, but there was also a hint of relief about him. No doubt he was grateful they had finally given up on the job – it never felt right staying in one place for too long – or he was thanking their lucky stars that Yondu had just chosen to walk away this time.

 

‘Aren’t you needed at the meeting?’ Peter asked him sarcastically, nodding over at the other three.

 

Kraglin shrugged. ‘I think it’s private. Captain gave me a look when I got too close. That ship that turned up was other Ravagers.’

 

‘Oh, is Yondu getting all mysterious about Ravager lore?’

 

That would explain why Yondu had left it. They rarely dealt with other Ravager Clans directly. Peter knew that Yondu had been exiled from the major Clans, which he assumed was down to Yondu’s unique way of socialising with people.

 

‘Guess so,’ said Kraglin.

 

‘Not for our innocent little ears, huh?’

 

‘Guess not. Got the feeling he’ll be in a mood the rest of the week.’

 

‘Isn’t he _always_ in a mood?’

 

Kraglin shot him a warning glance, but he was trying not to smile.

 

‘ _Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!_ ’ Peter sang along quietly.

 

Kraglin’s mouth twitched. ‘This is a good song.’

 

‘This song kicks _ass_.’

 

‘Never get tired of ‘em, do you?’

 

‘Why would I?’

 

Kraglin shrugged again. ‘Meant nothing by it. I know it’s important to you.’

 

‘When I’ve got my ship it’s gonna be great. I’ll have my music hooked up like on the _Eclector_. There’ll be a little bar in the saloon, _and_ I’ll get a double bunk.’ Peter gave a meaningful look at the last part.

 

Kraglin gave a little nod. ‘Yeah, it would be nice having a cabin of your own.’

 

‘You’ll have to come with me, Krags,’ said Peter.

 

 ‘Sure,’ said Kraglin, snickering.

 

‘I’m serious – think about it! We’d have full run of everything. No more sharing with other Ravagers. No more cleaning duty.’

 

Kraglin smiled. ‘No more curfew.’

 

‘No more curfew, no more limits.’

 

‘That sounds fun,’ said Kraglin.

 

They grinned at each other for a moment. Kraglin broke the eye contact first, sneaking a peek over the back of his chair at the others. Peter admired the line of fresh tattoos leading down his neck; his long, slender body sprawled in the chair.

 

‘Be a very dirty ship, though,’ said Kraglin suddenly, turning back to him. ‘If no one cleaned it.’

 

Peter sighed quietly. Kraglin was always thinking about work, even the kind he didn’t like doing. Maybe he should just persuade Kraglin into his bunk tonight, he thought? That ought to keep his attention where it should be.

 

‘We’ll get it cleaned when we dock,’ he said, waving carelessly.

 

‘I guess.’

 

 ‘You could stick your knives up all over the walls. Nobody would nag us about where we put our clothes. I wouldn’t – ’

 

Peter was startled when an arm reached past him towards the console where the screen was and flicked the music off. Recognising the blue hand attached to it, he scowled and looked up into the face of Yondu, just as the captain was retracting his arm.

 

‘ – And I’d be able to play my music whenever I want,’ finished Peter, shooting a meaningful glance at Yondu.

 

‘In what universe?’ asked Yondu, grunting satisfactorily as he sat down in one of the passenger seats behind them.

 

Kraglin automatically swivelled his own chair around to face Yondu, leaving Peter no choice but to follow suit. He couldn’t risk trying anything on with Kraglin now; Yondu didn’t miss a trick, but he knew which way to spin the conversation to avoid him getting suspicious.

 

‘On my ship. When I get one.’

 

‘Well, don’t hold your breath,’ said Yondu with a snort. ‘You’re lucky I let you take those leathers for a ride.’

 

‘What about you, Kraglin?’ Peter asked. ‘Don’t you want a ship of your own?’

 

Kraglin just shrugged.

 

Peter stared at him incredulously. ‘You must want one?’

 

‘What’s this?’ Yondu asked Kraglin. ‘Thinking of leaving us?’

 

‘No, sir,’ Kraglin answered straight away. ‘I ain’t going nowhere.’

 

‘But I mean – if he wanted to be more independent – ’ Peter began. ‘This is what we were talking about the other day – when my words were _misinterpreted_.’ He glared at Yondu meaningfully, but the captain’s attention was still on Kraglin.

 

‘You want more independence?’ Yondu asked.

 

‘ _No_ – I’m fine,’ Kraglin insisted.

 

‘But he might one day,’ said Peter.

 

‘Don’t see why you can't get a craft of your own,’ Yondu said to Kraglin thoughtfully.

 

‘Wait – _what_?!’ gasped Peter, furious.

 

Kraglin stared at Yondu in a similar state of shock.

 

‘We have that old one in the hangar – Hraxian make,’ Yondu continued as though Peter wasn’t there. ‘Needs a paint job, mind, but that one’d suit you.’

 

Peter gaped at Yondu in disbelief. The ship he was talking about was the _Milano_ , and it was _his_ – not officially, but he’d been flying her ever since he knew how, and he’d already named her and everything! He supposed she could have gone to someone much worse than Kraglin, but he didn’t understand how Yondu could be so cruel to just hand over a vessel he had to know Peter adored to someone else on, basically, a whim.

 

‘I – I couldn’t,’ said Kraglin awkwardly.

 

‘You want it, it’s yours.’

 

‘Oh, thank you – but I don’t want it, sir.’

 

‘Why the hell not?’ asked Peter, torn between amazement and offense on behalf of his beloved ship.

 

‘I don’t need it.’

 

Peter threw his hands up in disbelief. ‘You’re insane.’

 

Yondu regarded Kraglin for a moment, seeming more amused than offended at the declined offer. ‘Well,’ he said casually. ‘If you change your mind you know where I am.’

 

‘Yessir,’ Kraglin mumbled.

 

They went quiet for a moment, Peter practically boring a hole in Yondu’s head until the captain’s red eyes flashed in his direction. ‘May I help you?’ he asked.

 

‘Um, maybe _I_ could have the M-ship you seem to have going spare?’ said Peter, not wanting to admit he’d already named the vessel.

 

Yondu shrugged exaggeratedly. ‘No idea what you’re talking about, boy.’

 

‘If you were happy enough offering it to Kraglin, I don’t get why I can’t – ’

 

Yondu promptly began making stupid ‘woo-wah-woo’ noises over Peter’s rant, and Peter, knowing it was hopeless, threw his arms up again and twisted the chair back around to face the console. He stuck his music on again, turning the volume right up and watching moodily as they approached the _Elector_.

 

Behind him, Yondu stood and reached down to ruffle his hair. Peter didn’t dignify the motion with any response, not even to flatten his hair back down after Yondu had moved off again.

 

‘What are you playing at?!’ Kraglin hissed at him, swivelling his own seat back to face the front.

 

‘ – What?’ Peter asked, taken aback by Kraglin’s obvious frustration.

 

‘Trying to make the captain think I want out? Just ‘cause you do, don't mean the rest of us feel the same way!’

 

Peter blinked. ‘But – earlier – I thought you said you wanted to come with me?’

 

‘We weren’t talking real life. _This_ is real life.’ Kraglin gestured around them.

 

‘What? Yondu’s not mad – hell, he offered you a ship for crying out loud.’

 

Kraglin sighed. ‘It’s not about that.’

 

‘What _is_ it about?’

 

‘It’s – it’s nothing.’

 

Kraglin stood then, and walked away towards the small galley. Peter watched him go unhappily. He supposed that this had something to do with Kraglin’s obsessive loyalty to Yondu or something. He didn’t understand why the guy just couldn’t let go, particularly now it was obvious Yondu would willingly – _gladly_ grant him some freedom if he wished it. He huffed. Of course he wasn’t actually that surprised Yondu hadn’t agreed to give him the _Milano_ after Kraglin had turned it down. Yondu didn’t just hand out presents to the crew willy-nilly, but it was still annoying.

 

 

Kraglin avoided Peter in the following days. Peter supposed the guy was still upset with him, or afraid that Yondu would still think he wanted to move on from the Clan if he hung around with him too much. He was a little sad that it obviously hadn’t got back to Kraglin that he’d done those little chores for him – that or Kraglin didn’t care for it. But he was usually a polite guy, and Peter was disappointed that he hadn’t noticed.

 

Perhaps it was all this exhaustion and frustration; the mooning over Kraglin that lead to Peter getting hurt. It happened during one of those special kind of raids that should have gone completely smoothly but fate just obviously wasn’t smiling at them that day. Prising the booty off their target proved easy. Getting it back onto the M-ship – not so much. One of their men had tripped, spilling roughly half of their stolen cargo onto the ground in front of some notable authority figures and armed guards. And then all hell broke loose.

 

Peter swore as he ducked several bullets, and pelted towards the safety of the ship. The sooner he finished those launchers he was working on, he mused, the better. He looked around for his fellow Ravagers, difficult to distinguish as they’d been in disguise for this heist. He knew it was foolish, but he tried to focus on whether he could see Kraglin ahead. If he'd been left behind, Peter was running straight back for him.

 

Abruptly, there was a particularly loud ‘woosh,’ as if something had just missed his head by an inch, and then a rather nasty, wet-sounding ‘thwack.’ All Peter knew was that the bullet couldn’t have broken his leg, because otherwise he wouldn’t still be running at all. Unfortunately, it was this thought that made the stinging of the wound rather violently known to him, and he stumbled, crying out in pain.

 

A pair of big, strong hands grabbed at his arms and began hauling him along. Peter gasped and staggered, recognising Horuz’s bulk with only a small fraction of relief through a haze of agony and confusion.

 

‘Keep going, Quill,’ Horuz was saying. ‘Don’t even think about it. Keep _going_.’

 

The world was going grey. Peter pushed on as far as he could, feeling as though his legs were sinking into the ground beneath him.

 

‘Quill? _Quill_!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the responses to this! I hope everyone enjoyed this part, too. Please feel free to leave comments and kudos, it brings me joy <3


	3. The Confession

 

It took Peter some time to wake up properly. He was exhausted; head, body and limbs in no hurry to leave the soft mattress beneath him, but the fact that he could feel their weight – plus the distant throbbing in his leg – meant that he was alive. And that was something.

 

As he swam in and out of consciousness, possibly over some minutes, he caught snatches of muted conversation.

 

_‘Pass me that – ’_

_‘...Boy will be fine. It won’t be long now – ’_

_‘ – shake some sense into – ’_

_‘Everything okay, sir?’_

_‘...just needs rest.’_

_‘Stay with me a while...’_

_‘...don’t think it will hurt him much.’_

_‘ – Come here.’_

 

When Peter finally gained some purchase on reality, and his brain was able to remain active and alert, the first thing he recognised was the brash, rasping voice of Yondu. That was good. That meant he hadn’t been left to die on the ground somewhere, or imprisoned by the victims of the raid. He was obviously somewhere in the _Eclector’s_ medical deck. His leg didn't feel half as bad as he'd feared it would, although he would likely be limping for a while. Typical.

 

‘ – Can’t stand waiting,’ Yondu was saying.

 

Peter kept as still as he possibly could. He didn’t really want to deal with Yondu right now. The man was always completely overbearing when Peter had been hurt or in danger; tending to rant on about taking more care and discipline and basically anything as long as he didn’t have to admit he’d been worried as hell. And so Peter chose to feign sleep, and hopefully avoid the tirade.

 

‘Shouldn’t be long now,’ came Kraglin’s pleasantly low intonation.

 

‘Remind me to blast Thi out the airlock.’

 

‘Might have to get in line. Never seen anyone look sorrier in my life.’

 

‘He’ll be even sorrier if I find he was drinking on the job.’

 

‘You think he was?’

 

‘Won’t exactly be shocked. Anyway, he’s all Stuvva’s for now.’

 

There was a clanging, rattling sound that Peter recognised as one of the medical trolleys being rolled down the hallway outside. Yondu and Kraglin’s voices went down to murmurs for a little while, and all Peter caught was the occasional word.

 

‘What?’ said Yondu suddenly louder after a few moments. ‘’Think I’ve been too harsh?’

 

‘Not my business,’ Kraglin replied.

 

‘Don’t gimme that shit. I want your opinion.’

 

‘... _You’re_ the cap’n, Cap’n.’

 

‘But it’s different. Damn it, it’s _always_ different. Just tell me what you think.’

 

There was a small sigh, and then a rustle as though one of them was moving around.

 

‘ – I think... giving him a ship of his own soon won’t do too much harm. S’not like he ain’t capable.’

 

Good old Kraglin, thought Peter as he realised they were discussing him.

 

‘Oh, he’s capable all right,’ said Yondu. ‘But of _what_?’

 

‘Boy’s a decent shot. Good tech skills. And he's a fine pilot.’

 

Peter fought to keep his face neutral and to stop his chest from puffing up at Kraglin’s words.

 

‘And a fine pain in the ass,’ Yondu grumbled.

 

‘ – Maybe he’ll improve with a little freedom?’

 

Yondu just grunted, and then there was more rustling and then suddenly footsteps.

 

‘Still don’t want it for yourself, then?’ he asked.

 

‘That isn’t funny,’ said Kraglin.

 

‘Just 'cause you don't have a sense of humour, my pretty. I gotta get back.’

 

‘You go. I’ll watch him.’

 

‘See me later, yeah?’

 

‘’Course, sir.’

 

More footsteps, getting further and further away until they disappeared altogether.

 

Damn it, thought Peter as he continued to lie still. The first time he and Kraglin had been alone and he was probably going to be out of action in the bedroom department for a little while. Although, maybe this was actually perfect? Maybe he could work with the poor, injured Peter plan. Kraglin had volunteered to watch over him, after all, and was obviously worried about him.

 

He remained prone and silent for as long as he could stand it – perhaps for another full ten minutes. He didn’t want Kraglin to know that he’d overheard them, at least not at first. Finally, he gave a pathetic little moan, and began to shift on the mattress.

 

‘...Quill – Peter?’ Kraglin murmured, and Peter heard him move to come and stand over him.

 

‘Mm – Krag-lin?’ he whimpered.

 

‘Yeah, it’s me. You’re okay.’

 

Peter opened his eyes blearily, and Kraglin’s face – his eyes huge and wide with concern – swam into view. He made a show of blinking in the light of the room and looking confused, before focusing his attention back on Kraglin.

 

‘Got hit by a tranquiliser bullet,’ Kraglin continued, ‘but you’re okay.’

 

Peter didn’t really care – he’d already guessed as much.

 

‘Horuz carried you back.’

 

Peter made a small, questioning sound.

 

'Yeah.' Kraglin nodded. 'You want some water?'

 

‘No - Kraglin,’ Peter croaked, reaching out to him.

 

Kraglin leant down, seeming to think he was trying to tell him something. Peter could see each of the long; dark lashes framing his eyes.

 

Once Kraglin was close enough, Peter found one of his long-fingered, bony hands where it was resting on the mattress, and gave it a small squeeze as craned his neck towards Kraglin’s ear.

 

Kraglin moved in further for him, and that was when Peter pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, a pleasant rub of stubble against soft flesh. He inhaled slightly, the smell of oil and leather that clung to most of the crew sitting rather nicely against Kraglin’s skin. He withdrew, and Kraglin looked down at him in bewilderment.

 

‘Uh, Quill?’ he said.

 

‘Was that okay?’ Peter asked, smiling at him.

 

‘Wha – Why’d you do that?’

 

‘I wanted to,’ said Peter. ‘I want you.’

 

Kraglin pulled his hand from Peter’s grip. His pale eyes were now massive with obvious confusion – utter, utter shock. Peter abruptly began to worry. He’d suspected that Kraglin might be a bit taken aback, or that the thought of Peter in a romantic light may not have occurred to him yet, but the guy wasn’t supposed to look _scared_.

 

‘I – Quill – you’re just a kid!’ Kraglin stammered then.

 

The words ripped through Peter faster than Yondu’s arrow. ‘Not for long,’ he said urgently, struggling up into a sitting position and ignoring the slight dizziness and twinge in his calf it brought on. ‘Not forever. Look at me, man – I’m practically grown!’

 

Kraglin just looked pained as he gave a little wave to get him to quiet down. ‘Shh! Quill – Peter... I’m – I’m sorta...’

 

‘What?’

 

‘I’m already with someone.’

 

Peter stared at him for a moment. Kraglin was already taken? He hadn’t bargained on that. He was pretty sure the guy had slept with a couple of men on board at one time or another, but he’d never seemed inclined to settle with either of them – and anyway the men in question had since both left.

 

‘Oh,’ said Peter numbly. ‘ – Who?’

 

‘I – It doesn’t matter.’

 

‘Doesn’t matter? Then – why can’t we have some fun?’

 

If it didn’t matter then Peter wasn’t bothered. He would seduce and sneak Kraglin out from under this person’s nose in a week.

 

Kraglin made a small, frustrated noise and sat down in the chair he’d presumably been occupying earlier. ‘I’m sorry, Peter,’ was all he said as he looked at the floor sadly.

 

Peter tried to ignore the stab of hurt as he realised what Kraglin was saying. ‘You don’t like me,’ he said dully.

 

Kraglin looked up quickly. ‘ – _No_ – I _do_ like you – !’

 

‘Then – why not? Is it this other person?’

 

‘Oh, no – That’s not what I meant.’

 

‘So, who is it?

 

‘I can’t say.’ Kraglin had crossed his arms over his chest defensively and completely avoiding Peter’s eye now.

 

‘Are they making you keep it a secret?’ asked Peter. ‘They are, aren’t they?’

 

Kraglin’s face twitched then – maybe at the accuracy of Peter’s question, or the shame of whatever he was hiding.

 

What bastard, thought Peter, what absolute _fucker_ got to Kraglin before he did?

 

‘ _I_ wouldn’t keep you a secret,’ he said, suddenly very upset.

 

Kraglin squirmed. ‘Ah – that makes it sound real bad,’ he muttered.

 

‘I’d take care of you.’

 

Kraglin just looked up at him, eyes slightly watery. Peter could hardly stand it. He almost wished Kraglin would just use this opportunity to take the piss out of him – just a little. It was kind of a Ravager’s right – or maybe he just thought Peter too _young_ for yet another thing.

 

Peter set his jaw slightly as they looked at each other. ‘I know I’m young, but I won’t be forever.’

 

‘It ain’t – I mean, it _is_ that.’ Kraglin coughed awkwardly. ‘But even if you were older – I’m sorry, Peter. I really care about this guy.’

 

Peter flinched, and then took a moment to think about it before nodding. ‘So it _is_ a guy.’

 

‘But I’m very – touched,’ Kraglin continued. ‘Really, I am. Didn’t know you could be so sweet.’

 

Peter scoffed. ‘I’m not _sweet_ – Is _he_ sweet?’

 

‘...Not really. I mean – he _can_ be.’

 

‘Only when he feels like it, then?’

 

‘You keep making it sound...’ Kraglin trailed off. ‘It’s complicated, that’s all.’

 

Scowling, Peter flopped back down against the pillows, wondering how everything in his life had suddenly gone so horribly wrong. Why hadn’t he noticed Kraglin was seeing somebody? _Why_ was Kraglin seeing somebody?

 

Kraglin stood up, wringing his hands awkwardly. ‘Look – I’ll go tell the doc you’re up... You’re gonna be fine.’ He didn’t sound too sure just then, but of course they both knew he wasn’t talking about Peter’s leg.

 

‘I know, I heard you and Yondu.’

 

‘ – Yeah?’

 

‘Yeah. You think I’m old enough for a ship of my own, but not a relationship.’

 

‘ – Hey, that ain’t – ’

 

Peter waved him off, half apologetically, half in irritation. ‘I know, I know. “It's not about that.” Still. Sucks.’

 

‘...Right. I’ll tell him you’re up and all.’

 

Peter just grunted and rolled over to face the wall, as Kraglin walked over to the door.

 

‘Um – I brought your music in,’ said Kraglin lamely, pausing. ‘...I’m real sorry.’

 

Peter groaned to himself as Kraglin finally left. Why did it have to be like this? Why did Kraglin have to be so kind and cute and so totally out of reach? Why couldn’t he at least have had the decency to be a complete dick about it so that Peter could just get over him? He wished he’d just woken up earlier when Yondu was here. In fact – right now he wished he hadn’t woken up at all.

 

One thing was for sure; he was going to find out just who this A-hole was and if he wasn’t treating Kraglin right, Peter would end him. Messily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my readers! Hope you enjoyed this slightly shorter chapter, too!


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